


Hat's Off

by purplecyphers



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, Gen, Inspired by Fanart, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplecyphers/pseuds/purplecyphers
Summary: Late one night, Rimmer contemplates a hat.





	Hat's Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedDwarfIsALesbian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDwarfIsALesbian/gifts).



> Inspired by [this wonderful piece of fanart](https://reddwarfisalesbian.tumblr.com/post/185575862012/); I saw it and most of the drabble came to me.

The lights were turned down low and the air was filled with sounds like an ongoing construction site in the middle of New York City during rush hour traffic emanating from the sleeping form of David Lister. His bunk mate, Arnold J Rimmer, sat at the small table riveted to the floor with a pained expression on his face and a green Space Corp hat sitting before him. It was from the same uniform his brother Frank wore last time they bumped into one another, and one he'd hoped to someday wear. But that wouldn’t happen now, not when he was a hologram stuck three million years in deep space and still failing the astronavigation exams. 

_ It just wasn’t fair!  _

He tried ignoring the tears, but the way his vision was blurring, it was more difficult than it seemed. The Cat’s teasing had never gotten to him so easily before, but here he was crying and it was all that stupid moggy’s fault. No, it wasn’t really, but it was easier to blame the glorified pet than give into the crushing weight of knowing he was nothing but a disappointment, a failure, worse than a black sheep; Rimmer didn’t want to think about all that but his mind was cruel and, in his father’s and brother’s voices, he listened as all manner of horrid insults played in the background to the recent volley of a dressing down he’d received. 

There was a bit of shuffling and then something like a whip thowmping against metal. Lister shifted in bed and, in turning over, his dreads flopped out and over the edge of his bunk, hanging like the ropes he keeps imagining are waiting to string him up like his brothers used to. Something about them calls to Rimmer but he turns his head back to the hat stubbornly and frowns. There was always something about the Scouser that got under his skin and yet, in times like these when he was an emotional wreck letting his past assault him, that cheeky optimism somehow made his death worthwhile. It made him feel like less of a disappointment, less of a loser, and more of an equal, more of a friend. 

He wanted to tug on those stupid smegging dreadlocks, wanted to know if it would make their owner cry out or moan…! Rimmer choked on his tears and his head hit the table. He woke up the next morning like that, the only thought he allowed himself after everything he went over the night before was that he didn’t care if he were an officer, he was finally going to wear the elusive green uniform, hat and all. 


End file.
